


do you kill at night?

by ymirjotunn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Gen, Pack Family, Transformation, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymirjotunn/pseuds/ymirjotunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin, a young werewolf under the tutelage and protection of the Ramsey pack, accidentally bites a human coworker. It's bad enough that he fucked up so badly, even worse that he did it to his Michael, but worst of all is that Michael's body doesn't quite respond like he should.</p><p>Gavin takes responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you kill at night?

**Author's Note:**

> For RT Secret Santa 2013 (thegrinningcrow's wishlist) - prompt was werewolves and violence and body horror, and hey, three of my favorite things! So I added Gavin and Michael and then there was no way out.
> 
> Just realized that Gavin features prominently in all three of my gift fics. I may or may not have a problem and I am deeply sorry for that.
> 
> Important note at the end regarding the completion of this fic!

"Geoffrey, you are pacing like a wild animal," Gavin said, in his most helpful voice, and the larger man ground to a halt, spinning to face him.

"Oh, am I!" Geoff's voice had gone all hysterical-squeaky and Gavin winced. He'd...gavved up again, hadn't he.

Well, of course he had, a smaller, rational part of his mind went  - after all, he'd bitten him, his lovely little boy, had cornered him and frightened him and probably cursed him for the rest of his life - but really, he rationalized, he was in shock right now. Couldn't be expected to think logical. Geoff should know that, hadn't he ever slipped up?

"You've probably just doomed Michael Jones to a life of being afraid," Geoff snapped, poking Gavin hard in the chest.

"Ouh! I! I didn't mean to, Geoffrey," Gavin said, mostly whinging, and put his head in his hands. "I really didn't mean to, I don't even know what happened, I just...it...he came in and I was already half-gone and, and I'm really sorry."

Geoff sighed, long and hard, and sat down next to Gavin. "I get it, Gav. I know we make mistakes sometimes. But this is a big mistake, one we can't fix, and it's my fault. If it's bad enough, if Michael gets out of control, they'll take me away from you."

"What?" Gavin stared at him, bewildered. "You can't be serious. I mean, you can't be serious! They wouldn't - I mean, I've been yours and Jack's and Griffon's since, since I was a pup-"

"The Grand Council doesn't give a shit," Geoff snorted. "If we let a young one turn someone else, and then we don't take good enough care of him..." He shrugged. "We both fucked up, Gav. I fucked up letting you stay too late at the office, you fucked up not keeping control. I know it's hard, but you have to try harder."

"I know," Gavin said, rubbing at his nose and tipping forward a little. "Is, uh, is Griffon still..."

"Yeah," Geoff replied, standing. "You want a bev?"

"Bevs," Gavin said, emphasizing the 's'. "Plural. Strong."

Geoff winced. "Yeah, that's my Gav."

 

Gavin was not a Ramsey by blood, but he was a Ramsey by all other counts. He'd come to America as a kid, really, in his teens, after a feral had bitten him "right on the knob," he would explain. (He hadn't, really - it had been his thigh, but about his dick sounded much more badass, didn't it?) The Ramseys had happened to be on the top of the International Grand Council of Werewolves' list of foster families and so Gavin had gone from a family that considered him worse than dead to a family of warm, loving people with tattoos and a surplus of fearlessness. Gavin had needed that extra bravery, when he was a new pup, and the Ramseys had been there to provide it for him.

There was Geoff, a hairy, bearded, intimidating man who was a lot nicer once you actually talked to him. He was the alpha, and then there was his mate, Griffon, a tatted-up, pierced blonde who was the exact opposite, with a bite far worse than her bark (and bloody hell, her bark could be scary sometimes). Geoff's beta was an even larger, more bearded man named Jack, who somehow managed to be even nicer, once you got past how terrifying he could look if he wanted to.

Gavin had been in his early teens when he was a pup, a scrawny wild-haired kid with a nose too big for his face (he wasn't afraid to admit it), and his British accent stood out like a sore thumb in a country of Americans and a state of Texans. And yet he fit right into that little pack, had been more comfortable there than he'd been in England among wolves so old they had grey hair when they turned, and he didn't have a single tattoo but they loved him like he was their own son. (Even Jack, who was decidedly not a Ramsey, but family all the same.)

He'd always, always, always been good at controlling himself. Certainly, the transformation never stopped hurting enough for him to want to rip everything apart, and it came every full moon without fail, but Griffon assured him it was sort of like a full-body period, aches and cramps and other horrible things all over the place. Gavin had always retorted that it was probably quite different, what with furry things all over the place, but then Griffon had gone into this utterly nasty detail about menstruation and something called the endometrium and Gav had had to make loud retching noises at her until she walked away laughing.

So, he supposed, it didn't hurt all that much, compared to lady things and also things like breaking limbs and not having them heal right up, and plus there was the added bonus of healing fast, so when his spine broke every time he went four-legged it healed up so fast that it was barely a split second of paralysis. (That bit had spooked him a lot, in the beginning, but he'd got used to it.)

And there was the little issue of how, how around the full moon, he'd go all clingy and vocal and jumpy, but that had never been a problem for anybody. Most of the humans hadn't even noticed that there was a pattern involved, with the moon thing, and they took Gavin's clinginess as him just being Gavin.

But this...this bit, with Michael? Gavin didn't understand it. He knew he couldn't necessarily help what he did when he turned - that'd been drilled into his head ever since he was a pup - but the very idea that he could be violent enough to hurt someone, to turn someone, that was utterly alien to him.

He knew why, at least. He knew that Geoff had, in a fit of desperation to get this new video out, had let him stay a little late, to finish it up and get it uploaded. He knew that nobody had really noticed that the full moon was coming around, given that it had been so cloudy lately. He knew that they'd gotten complacent because they'd been doing so well in a whole office of humans. He knew that he'd been jumpy and clingy all day and by the time it was a little after eleven he was, like he'd told Geoff, half-gone, mostly wolf in his head and running his tongue over his teeth absentmindedly, and he knew that Michael had been sitting right there in the AH office with him.

Geoff had been there. He always was. But at that particular moment he'd been out getting a bev, and Michael had smelled so good, so delicious, like a salty hot beating heart, and Gavin wanted it so badly that he'd just snapped, before any bones had broken or claws had grown or fur had sprouted, before anybody could recognize what he was.

After that, he didn't remember a lot, but Geoff did, and he'd told Gavin about the scene he'd walked back in on. Michael was lying on the ground bleeding out through an enormous gaping wound in his neck, and Gavin was all-wolf and whining and nosing at his shoulder, even as he licked the blood from his lips. At least, Geoff had said, wryly, he'd shown a little remorse.

Gavin had been driven home, set up in the cage in the basement, and Griffon had left to go take care of him. It was hard to avoid being a wolf on the full moon, but given how old the Ramseys were, it was a lot easier for them, and Griffon had experience with wounds like that. Came with the whole being pierced to the gills, being an industrial carpenter-style artist, that sort of thing.

So here it was, Sunday morning, and Gavin was sitting on the couch hunched over, feeling a lot like he had a really bad hangover, and Geoff was being all nervous on the other end of the sofa and Griffon was tending to Michael in her room. It was taking all of Gavin's willpower to not spring up and check on Michael right this second. He just...he couldn't believe he'd been such a bollocksing _moron_.

"Are they going to take me away from you?" Gavin said, staring down at the ground. "I didn't...you all have been so much nicer to me than they were in England. I don't want to go back. Can we, ah, can we get a fast citizenship, or something? Something better than a visa?" His voice was too hopeful for the sounds coming from the other room, Griffon's soothing voice and Michael screaming like...like...Gavin could only think to liken it to someone dying, so he'd been thinking of it like Michael imitating a woman in childbirth perfectly. He didn't want to think about Michael dying.

"I don't think we can get you a fast citizenship," Geoff said, humorless. "Turn on the TV, would you? We can play some Minecraft."

"Don't wanna," Gavin said, sullenly kicking the carpet. "I told you I want to see Michael."

"Not right now, Gav. Not after a bloodlust."

"Wasn't a bloodlust! I've never in my life had a bloodlust, Geoffrey, it was just because he caught me off guard!" Gavin's delicate balance on the line just before upset was getting tipped right over and it was making his headache a billion times worse. "You told me yourself I was sitting there nosing his shoulder, if it was a bloodlust wouldn't I still be in there eating him up?" He winced a little at that. "I didn't, I swear. I didn't mean to."

"Nobody means to go into bloodlust! It just happens. It's just a..." Geoff gestured. "Wolfy thing, I dunno."

"Well, humans sure aren't going about wanting to rip hearts out of people's chests," Gavin said, a little snottily, and Geoff glared.

"I need another bev," he said, standing up.

"You hardly just finished your last!"

"Gavin, with what's happening right now, I could drink the whole fridge plus our liquor cabinet and still not be drunk enough."

Gavin sat there in petulant silence, kicking the carpet over and over, and then he stood up, with purpose, and walked right to the room where Griffon was tending to his little boy.

He wasn't supposed to be in there. They were afraid he'd go nuts again, but really, _really_? The full moon was gone. He was definitely human. Human and upset, and granted, emotions were never really good for his temper, but this was important. He had to see him. Apologize. Make sure he was okay.

He opened the door and Griffon stiffened right away. "Gav," she said, moving to block Michael with her own body, "no."

He'd already seen him.

Michael had ropes around both wrists and both ankles and was shaking, convulsing, even, like he was having a seizure, and maybe he was - Gavin knew that not everybody responded well to the bite - and he was so, so bloody. There was crusted-over blood all down his neck, on his chest, and there was blood at the corners of his mouth and where the ropes met his skin, where he must've been seizing so hard that he'd rubbed the skin away. His eyes were wide open, in an expression of agony and terror and something else that Gavin couldn't name but didn't want to, and Gavin backed up, hit the door, his hands shaking.

"How's," he said, and couldn't manage much more.

"He's doing," Griffon said, in a dry voice. "He's certainly doing."

"What can I do?"

"Not try to rip out his arteries anymore?"

"I won't want to, now, will I, not after he's--"

"It depends on where he asserts himself in the pack, Gavin, stop being so worried and go get me a warm, damp cloth, please." She waited a moment, and then snapped in that horrible grating alpha voice of hers, "Now, Gav."

"Griffon, he's--"

"I know! I know what he looks like! Get me the fucking cloth."

Gav whined, low in his throat, and Griffon held out her hand. An invitation. Gavin slunk up behind her and she hugged him around the waist and they watched Michael lie there and twitch and make these quiet, pained sounds.

"Is that what happened to me?" Gavin had his face squashed up against Griffon's shoulder. It was easier that way.

"Depends on the strength of your reaction," Griffon said, her hand rubbing Gav's hip. "But his is worse than most."

"He's gonna be okay, yeah?"

She was quiet. "I think," she said, and that was all.

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. "I'll go get that damp cloth, then."

"You do that."

He hurried out of the room, avoiding Geoff's pissed-off stare, and went for the washcloths in the cabinet, wringing it out under the faucet until it was how he wanted it, and came back with it dripping onto his feet. "Griffon."

"Thanks, sweetie," she said, back to business, and took the washcloth from him to wrap around Michael's wounds.

 

Michael was dying.

It was something out of a goddamn horror movie, the way he'd been conscious through all of it: Gavin leaping at him with this twisted-up expression on his face, a sudden gripping agony in his neck, the pain spreading from his neck through his blood to every extremity until he couldn't help but shake and shake and try to make it go away. (Spoiler alert! It was still fucking here. Hours later and he couldn't stop folding in half everywhere his body had joints to do it, like that was going to _change_ anything.)

He'd been conscious for Geoff to come in and rip Gavin a new asshole, although he still wasn't a-hundred-percent sure why, and for Geoff to drive them both home, and then for Gavin to fuck off, for Griffon to take hold of him with arms surprisingly strong - despite the fact that he knew Griffon and the shit she did for a living, let alone her free time, it was still really weird to know that she could lift him like he was a kid - and for her to strap him to the bed. What was this? A bondage porno?

He fucking _wished_. The most hardcore S &M in the world could not compare to this. His blood was burning, boiling, searing his skin from the inside out, and he was sure that when it was all over he was gonna be cooked to perfection, but for now he was just too goddamn raw. He wasn't...he wasn't even getting used to it.

And then he heard Gavin's voice, faintly, and he tried to see him, but it was so hard. Everything was dark and reddish, smelled like iron and sounded like echoes, and he just wanted to scream, to use all the curse words he knew in one long string of _fuckfuckshitcunthellgoddamnitnononopleasestopithurts_ and right about then, when something warm and wet vaguely dripped onto his consciousness, he realized that if he could talk he wouldn't be cursing, he'd be crying.

At first he thought he was being a baby, making a big deal out of it, but another shockwave hit him spine-down and if he could've screamed he would've shattered windows, and, yeah, okay, he wasn't being a baby. This was a fucking Big Deal, capital B, capital D.

He heard Gavin say something about his hands and thought about asking him to hold his hand, like he was five years old again and getting a shot at the doctor's and was begging the nurse to squeeze his hand as hard as she could. He knew it wouldn't help, every time, but every time he asked anyway. If it felt better in his head, he figured, he might as well.

After that things went a little blacker, a little darker, and he had the presence of mind to think fuzzily _Oh, look at that, someone's finally realized I'm not fucking built for this shit_ and then he was out.

 

He dreamed of running. Four feet on the ground. Dark sky, dark trees, warm bodies and warm flesh. Hearts still beating where they lay on the mulch. Screams and bloodshot eyes, ripping pain ( _hadn't he had enough of that_ ), the sound of bones breaking.

And he dreamed of Gavin, mostly, a lot, of his eyes floating disembodied in darkness, and his voice (sort of?) but most of it was the way he felt. Like Michael wanted to hit him but at the same time wanted to sit down with him and just...be like that.

His brain got fed up with that after a while, reminded him he wasn't gay, he definitely liked girls, he wasn't gay and besides, was this really the time to be having a gay panic in his subconscious?!

Apparently, some vengeful god out there decided that his brain was right about all of that, and then he was awake again, damp with sweat and blood and gasping.

 

"Michael!" Gavin nearly descended on him when his eyes had opened, but Griffon had snarled at him and he'd nearly tumbled down on the ground. "My little boy. Oh, my God, oh my God." He might be biting through his lip, sort of, but nobody ought to tell him, just leave him out of this one. It could be their little secret.

"What," Michael managed to croak, and Gavin really thought he might have a heart attack.

"I'm so sorry, Michael," he said, babbling. "I'm so--I didn't--I've never done that before, I _swear_ , you just smelled so good, I wanted to eat you up, I didn't--" He could taste iron on his tongue. "Fuck."

Michael's eyes dimmed a little at this, like him cursing a little was the biggest of their problems. "What'd he do, Griffon?"

"Oh, where do I begin," Griffon said, running a bloodied hand through her hair. "Gav, get me a new hairband, would you?"

"Yeah," Gavin mumbled, swiping at his cheeks, and scurried off into the bathroom in search of one. When he came back Griffon was perched on the edge of the bed, helping Michael sit up, and Geoff had clumsily kicked open the door, carrying a bottle of something definitely boozey and a tray of something that made Gavin's mouth water. Meat, probably. Oh, Lord, he hadn't eaten, no wonder his stomach felt so twisty-empty. He'd thought that was just because he'd been crying.

He licked his lips in its direction, asked, "Geoffrey? Could I?" All meek, like he was a well-trained kid asking for ice cream.

Geoff didn't look at him, just dropped the meat and the booze on the side table. "Yeah. We got lamb in the fridge, go get it yourself, lazy-ass."

"Geoff, cut him some slack," Griffon said, in that disapproving voice that meant oh-no-sir-none-of-your-bullshit-this-evening. "How're you feeling, Michael?"

"Besides like you've been fucked in all your openings," Geoff added. "Moonshine-" he pointed "-and good warm beef. Eat it and don't complain about it being raw."

Michael gave him a weird look. "Why's it raw."

"Eat it," Geoff said again, shrugging, and left the aftermath to the (admittedly incomplete) rest of his pack.

"Hoooo boy," Griffon said, running another hand through her hair, sweaty and poking out in places all over. "How do I even explain this."

"I c'n," Gavin mumbled, coming over to sit next to him. His little boy. All bloodied up. Oh, but he was the literal _Cockmaster_ , one and only, reigning supreme.

He swallowed, the movement hurting his throat. "I did something really bad," he said, fingers closing around Michael's. He didn't get rebuffed for it, but then maybe Michael was too weak to do that, but then...was he gonna let go? Nope. "Uh, ah, we're, okay, well. What if...werewolves?"

Michael blinked dumbly at him. "What if werewolves?"

"Yeah," Gavin said, marveling at his own eloquence.

"That's got to be the stupidest thing you've ever said to me." Michael's eyes closed a little, and Gavin's heartbeat sped in desperation, squeezing his wrist. "Fuck! Ow!" His eyes flew open again, and Gavin shrank back.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry little boy," he chanted, flinching over and over. "I dunno what hurts you and what doesn't. It, um, I'm not being silly, okay? Werewolves. Really, truly, werewolves. And I, um, last night was the full moon and I sort of...uh, you know, bunced you."

"Sort of!" Michael laughed, hollowly, and Gavin crumpled on the inside. "Yeah, sort of's one way to put it."

"Hey, don't, it's not his fault," Griffon interrupted, patting his leg. "Gavin lost control and bit you. He really didn't mean to, and you'll understand this eventually, like when you turn the first time. It's transmitted. The legends aren't all lying. Sorry you had to deal with that part, but it'll be a lot worse next full moon, so you might as well get used to it."

Michael glared at her. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Gavin said, sinking down into the mattress. "I--you'll heal up easier, at least?" That wasn't any comfort and he knew it.

"Anything else I need to know?"

Geoff bumped Gavin with something that smelled delicious and he turned to grasp a chop, biting it hungrily. Michael stared at him like he was something alien, and he sort of was, wasn't he? At least he'd be used to it soon enough.

And then Geoff said - horrifically - "There's the possibility of your body rejecting the virus and just deciding to fuck off, so." Even Griffon turned to glare at him, and Michael visibly blanched.

"The fact that you didn't turn right now is a good sign," Griffon said, glaring still until Geoff left with a grumpy expression. He was drunk, drunker than usual, probably, which might be an explanation, or what might also be an explanation was that another one of his employees was a sodding werewolf and it was his stupid pup's fault. "You should be okay."

"Wow," Michael said, so sarcastic that Gavin swore his ears might bleed. "Okay! That sounds fantastic. I might as well just fucking go home, then, if I'm aaaall better."

"I'm sorry," Gavin said, voice crackling, and Michael suddenly looked cut up about it.

"Nah, just don't listen to me," he said quietly. "It all hurts. Gets to me after a while."

"It'll go away," Gavin said, helpfully. "And, ah, if it helps any, you're really really my boy now! Related by pack, and all that."

Michael's eyebrows went up. "Packs. Really."

"Yup!"

"Is this _Teen Wolf_? Am I on film?" His voice was joking. That was something. Positivity.

Gavin wanted to apologize again, but refrained, and took another bite of lamb. From now on, full moon days meant he was going home at four PM. Always.

Griffon coughed, startling both of them. "Eat a little, you've gotta be hungry. I'm going to go wash up." She stood, nodding at Gavin. "You can do this, pup."

Gavin flushed, even as she was walking out, and looked down at Michael. "I'm, um," he mumbled. "I'm a lot younger than she or Geoff."

"In dog years," Michael said, horribly straight-faced, and Gavin laughed and sniffled a little.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, squeezing his hand with both of his own. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Quit apologizing," Michael said, closing his eyes again. "Nothing you could've done."

"I could've...if I'd not stayed, or if I'd been older, or if I'd stopped myself," Gavin said, biting his tongue before any more of the guilt could spill out. "I, well, yeah, I could've done something, is what I'm saying. Here, eat." He pushed the beef over to him, jealous of how perfectly fresh it was. "Better than my refrigerated lamb."

"It's raw," Michael said, dangling it.

Gavin rolled his eyes at him. "And you're a wolf! Do as you're told, yeah? Eat up."

Michael did, and then he got into it, biting and tearing and even growling a little. The first time that happened he stopped, holding it out from his face and his wide eyes and his bloody mouth. "Uh."

"That happens," Gavin said, smiling down at him. "Don't worry. I got you, right? You're my boy."

"Yeah, ditto," Michael said, and he actually sounded calm. Gavin thought he was maybe an enormous cock-up failure but he was also a miracleworker, or maybe the miracleworker was the beef, but that was all right too. If there was one thing Gavin knew how to do, it was kill cows, and he would kill all the cows for Michael if that was what he needed out of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I meant to have everything done by now, I really did, but...health, and, and, and Minecraft, and I'm so very sorry but this is going to absolutely have to be a chaptered fic. I did not do the idea of body horror justice and I plan to, I promise, but that'll have to come later, probably over the course of a few weeks.
> 
> Unless the fic completely gets out of hand, it will definitely be finished by early-to-mid January! I just...pack AH, and gently fucking around with reality and also Michael Jones. I can't help it. This fic has found 80% of my weaknesses and is gleefully milking them all.
> 
> I really hope it's okay that it's not finished, dear giftee, but with luck the promise of more will satisfy. (At the rate I'm listening to music for this, there might also be a fanmix involved, so there's that perk I guess.) Hope you had really lovely holidays!!


End file.
